Katie
by l03l
Summary: "She's going to wake up, one day. She might be one for evidence and statistics, but he's one for miracles, for hope." Tumblr prompt fill.
1. Chapter 1

"Katie," he coaxes, watching as his daughter's dark eyes sparkle with defiance. "I know you can do it, sweetheart, walk to daddy."

She's standing, looking far more precarious than usual, holding onto the bed frame for support. The only reason she's _not_ walking is because she knows how much he wants her to do it.

Sometimes it knocks the breath out of him, how much she is like Kate.

He's not the only one – Jim was the one who was so overwhelmed by the similarities between his granddaughter and daughter that he mistakenly called the former "Katie" when she was just seven months old. Eva Kate Castle responded to the slip up so intensely, her head turning as if the name was her own, that the nickname stuck.

He's well aware that Kate is going to kill him for allowing their daughter to be known as Katie, but he has his explanation already planned; every last detail worked out to ensure she can't stay mad.

He's had long enough to work out the kinks.

"She's being stubborn, Kate," he chuckles, looking to his wife. "So much like you."

He's used to it now, the sound of the machines. Accustomed to the sight of his wife so motionless, the way her pale skin almost fades into the white bed sheets.

"Come on, baby, walk for mommy, please?"

She blinks at him, lets out a heavy breath as if it is such a task he's asking of her, and takes the few confident steps into his arms.

"Oh, well done, sweetheart," he grins, lifting her to his chest and standing so that she can see her mother. "I told you she was walking, Kate," he boasts, so proud.

"Momma," Eva mumbles, her chubby little arm reaching for Kate, and he sighs, sitting carefully on the bed. Eva reaches for Kate's hand, playing with her fingers, and he dusts a kiss to his daughter's wispy brown hair.

"I love you," he murmurs and Eva giggles, moving from Kate's hand to his own, pulling and pushing at his wedding band.

"You," Eva repeats, and he smiles at her, able to read the sentiment in her eyes, even if she only repeats one of the words.

"Yeah, you."

* * *

Eva starts getting antsy at lunchtime, and he knows it's time to go. They have the routine down, by now.

He collects the various toys and books that they've spread around the room, shoving them all into the bag and setting it by the bed before lifting Eva.

"Say bye Momma," he whispers, pressing a kiss to his wife's forehead.

"Bye Momma," Eva parrots and he sighs, pausing at the door like he always does, ever hopeful that in the second before he turns away she'll open her eyes.

"We'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

His mother has that same look in her eyes she always does when he gets home from seeing Kate, that morbid apprehensiveness, as if one day he won't be able to go back.

He's said it before, so he doesn't bother saying it again.

She will wake up, eventually.

He's heard every statistic in the world, researched comas and read medical journals, but there's one thing that none of the evidence accounts for.

Katherine Beckett is a fighter.

She's the strongest person he knows, and she's determined not to leave her daughter motherless. It won't be like this forever.

She's going to wake up, one day.

She might be one for evidence and statistics, but he's one for miracles, for hope.

But his mother seems to think that it pains him, going back there everyday, and okay, maybe it does.

Maybe his heart clenches every time they leave her there, still unresponsive, but he can't even consider any other option.

Besides, Eva has a right to know her mother, especially when her mother was so desperate to know her.

His daughter is kicking her feet, anxious to be put down, and he chuckles at her energy, abiding by her wishes.

"You want to show Gram how well you walk?" He asks, but she's already wobbling over to her grandmother, her face set with determination.

"Well done, Eva," she praises, looking to him. "Getting faster."

"I know," he moans, unable to resist lifting Eva into his arms and peppering her face with kisses. "Soon she'll have me chasing her everywhere."

His mother chuckles, her eyes sparkling in amusement.

"Something tells me that this little one might just get you back for how easy you had it with Alexis."

He groans, knowing it to be the truth. Eva has a fire in her, the kind he used to see in his wife, and he isn't deluded enough to think it's going to be easy.

She's already painfully stubborn, and he knows the years to come will only be more of a challenge.

But Kate will be there to help him out.

* * *

Even with the amount of money he's funnelling into Kate's care, they wouldn't permit a party, so they've postponed the big festivities until tomorrow so the two of them can spend the day with Kate.

He brought all of the presents though, has them laid out on the table, Eva in his lap.

"First one, baby girl," he says, passing the gift to her, laughing as she tears into the paper with little encouragement, as if she's a practised hand. Scraps of wrapping paper fly, making a mess of the room, and he just revels in the madness.

If he closes his eyes he can almost hear her.

" _You went overboard, Castle,"_

" _Yeah, well, it's not every day she turns one, is it?"_

He smiles, his hands around his daughter, the picture in his mind so clear.

"Momma," Eva says, her voice unprecedentedly strong, and his eyes snap open instinctively.

Blue meets brown and he blinks again, because is she…?

She's _awake_.

* * *

Nurses flood the room, and he finds himself being pushed aside as they tend to her, his irrepressible questions going unanswered.

Her eyes slip closed again and his heart rate increases, as every anecdote he's ever read about coma patients and recovery compete for attention.

Is she really awake? Is she slipping back into the coma? Is this the beginning of the end? Or is it a good sign?

He doesn't understand how her eyes opening could be a bad thing, but what if…?

"Mr Castle?"

He is ushered out into the hallway, but he can't take his eyes off Kate.

They're saying something about taking her to the hospital and further tests and not being too hopeful, stressing that she's been unresponsive for a long time, and Castle just stares, overwhelmed.

But Eva is wriggling in his arms, a grimace on her face, and he knows that she's distressed, that all of the chaos is upsetting her, so he swallows, tries to clear his head.

They're organising to transport Kate to a hospital, so he moves outside, calling his mother and Jim and making plans to meet them there.

They ask questions he can't answer, and he holds on to the one thing he does know.

She opened her eyes.

* * *

He sits outside the hospital, mumbling gibberish to Eva, random words that don't form sentences because it's all he can vocalise without letting go of the mess that is is brain at the moment, thoughts his one-year-old should not be privy to.

"Rick."

His head snaps up to see Jim, and he gets to his feet carefully, feeling a little light-headed.

"She opened her eyes," he whispers, still trying to convince himself it wasn't a dream. But no, he's never seen those beautiful eyes look like that before… So afraid, so unsure; he couldn't have imagined it if he tried.

"They're taking her for tests, I have to wait for my mother to pick up Eva."

He holds his daughter tight, desperate to anchor himself to something when it feels like his whole world is shifting and he doesn't yet know if it's a good thing.

"Rick."

Jim's voice is soft as he reaches for Eva, trying to take her, and Rick blinks, relinquishing his hold on the girl.

"Go check on her," Jim says, quiet but firm, and Rick presses a kiss to his daughter's forehead before acquiescing.

He finds her doctor with minimal effort, who explains that she's getting an MRI, that she seems to be showing signs of recovery, that she's responding to light, sound and pain, but that she isn't fully conscious, and there are still risks of infection and intracranial swelling. The words are too much and too fast, and Castle's stuck on the fact that _she's waking up_. The doctor is quick to warn him that it will be a slow process, that she may not improve further, but he can't find it in himself to care. She's doing better than she was yesterday, and he can't ask for much more.

* * *

When he's finally able to see her, he struggles not to overreact.

He was told to avoid moving quickly or suddenly, to keep the noise low, so he tenses every muscle in his body, waiting until the bed is back in place to move closer.

"Kate?"

His voice is nowhere near as strong as he intends, but when her eyes flick to him, he doesn't even care.

"Oh, Kate."

Those beautiful eyes, as expressive as ever, stare back at him, confused, and he chokes out a soft laugh, reaching for her hand.

He has to temper the hope that is blooming in his chest, because he wasn't expecting her to be so responsive, not after the doctors talked it down.

"You're okay. You're going to be okay, sweetheart," he says, the nickname he calls Eva slipping out because she looks so small, so much like their daughter.

"I love you. I love you, and everything's going to be okay."

* * *

He let himself hope.

It was stupid, and he knew it, but it was unpreventable.

Now he feels the all too familiar jarring disappointment.

She isn't waking up.

The doctors tell him that it's progress, her opening her eyes, but it goes no further.

He takes Eva to see her, hoping that their daughter will spark some form of recognition from Kate, and maybe it's selfish, but he's disappointed when it yields no results.

She opens her eyes, she recoils in response to pain, but that's it.

She's no more his wife than she was before, and it stings worse than it did when she was completely unresponsive.

It's two painful weeks before he comes to terms with it.

Hope is the enemy, and he puts it to bed.

He doesn't need hope, he has faith.

One day, she will recover fully. One day, she will open her eyes and really _see_ them.

He doesn't need to waste his time being hopeful; he just needs to be patient.

But then he's sitting beside her bed, retelling stories of his adventures yesterday with Eva when she grabs his wrist, and the hope returns.

* * *

The doctors are all but sure, now.

They're wary of getting his hopes up but he just snorts at them, because with every tiny change in her behaviour his disobedient hopes soar whether he wants them to or not.

She's getting better.

They don't know whether she'll be functional when she regains consciousness, but they're confident that she is in fact waking up.

They warn him that she won't be the woman he remembers. There's no telling what long-term brain damage she might have, whether her memory, speech or motor function will be impaired.

He struggles to imagine the possibilities, forces them from his mind and instead focuses on the fact that after almost a year, she's coming out of it.

After almost a year without her, he's going to get his wife back.

* * *

He continues to visit, monitoring every slight change in her behaviour, hope incessant.

He's sitting with Eva, telling her a story as she listens intently, when Kate's fingers squeeze his.

It makes his heart jump, the emotion thick in his throat as he imagines her awake and present with them.

Eva clamours for his attention and he apologises, kissing the top of her head and continuing the story, but she still isn't satisfied.

He looks to Kate, seeing instantly that this is different. Her eyes are that much more expressive, the desperation in them making him anxious to fix whatever is distressing her.

He moves out of the way, fading into the background of the room while the nurses and doctors enter, but her eyes never leave his.

He doesn't hear the doctor speaking because her eyes are too loud for him to listen to anything else. He's drawn to her side, desperate to touch her, and when he reaches for her, her fingers tangle with his, her mouth moving.

"Castle," his name is a broken rasp, and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Prompt:_ _Beckett is in a coma, leaving Castle to bring up their one-month old baby. Kate wakes up when the baby is one years old._

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I had no plans to continue this story, however a few people asked for more and it got me thinking, and here we are. This will be the final chapter. A huge thank you to Leuska for all of her incredible help with this chapter, and thank you all for reading and responding to this story_.

* * *

Her voice doesn't sound like her own when she says his name, but his face still breaks apart with joy.

"Oh, Kate."

There are people everywhere but she only sees him, his eyes wide with amazement as he presses a kiss to her hand.

"It's so good to hear your voice."

She tries to smile but falters, caught off-guard as she registers the child in his arms. She closes her eyes, so confused, because in Castle's grasp is a girl she doesn't recognise, a girl with dark hair and expressive eyes, and she doesn't understand.

She blinks repeatedly, her vision blurred with unshed tears as she attempts to make sense of it all, her chest tight.

Doctors and nurses crowd around her and Castle murmurs reassurances, his voice soothing even though she feels like she can barely breathe.

"Castle," she manages, unwilling to let go of his hand in the chaos, the only anchor she has.

"I'm here," he chokes out. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Days pass, filled with tests and visits that she doesn't remember, but the doctors tell her that she's doing better, now. Yesterday she couldn't recall anything after the accident, not regaining consciousness or any of the following days, but today she knows what's going on around her, can remember Castle telling her this morning that she has been in a coma for a year.

A whole year.

It's too much to begin to comprehend.

But she's making progress, evidently, and she sees it reflected in the combination of hope and relief in her husband's eyes.

Then it's days of scans and tests and so many doctors, all of it more than overwhelming, but Castle's at her bedside at any given chance.

"Kate."

Today he's a child with a secret, his lips pursed in a giddy smile as he pulls his chair closer to her.

"Kate," he whispers again, when she doesn't respond instantly.

"Castle."

"Guess what?"

She rolls her eyes, goes to indicate that she doesn't want to guess, but he's too excited to keep it to himself.

"They said it's okay if I bring Eva to see you."

She inhales slowly, averts her gaze.

She doesn't remember anything of those first few days after she rasped out his name, can't form any image in her head of her daughter beyond the memories she has of her at just one month old. She's heard stories from Castle, descriptions of a toddler who is stubborn and indomitable, who won't slow down for anything, but she struggles to reconcile his words with the baby she remembers, and her heart rate quickens at the thought of meeting the girl.

"Really?"

He nods, his voice gravelly as he replies.

"Really."

* * *

Despite spending hours watching the doorway, she isn't prepared when she finally looks up to see Castle there, his hand clasped around their daughter's.

She takes a deep breath, stunned at the sight of the girl, who regards her father impatiently when he pauses a foot past the threshold.

Eva walks across the room herself, shirking Castle's guiding hand and moving straight for the bed.

"Momma," she exclaims, wanting to be lifted up, but Kate can't reach to grasp her, her arms trembling uselessly. Her heart twists, her inability to move more than a fraction paining her more than the exertion.

But Castle's there in a second, helping Eva onto the bed with care.

"There's your mom, baby," Castle whispers, stroking his hand across their daughter's head.

When his eyes meet hers they're misty too, and she offers him a watery smile before looking back to Eva.

"Hey, Eva," she says, her voice breaking. "My sweet girl."

Eva blinks, her eyes widening at the sound of her mother's voice, and she turns to her father seeking affirmation, reassurance.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he encourages her, taking Kate's hand, rubbing his thumb across her wrist.

Eva glances between them both before grabbing at her mother's fingers, reaching for her face.

"Momma," she murmurs, amazed but accepting, and Kate lets out a shaky breath as relief floods through her.

She sees Castle relax too, realises she wasn't the only one apprehensive about Eva's reaction, and she squeezes his hand as the nerves and adrenaline subside.

Eva settles down on the bed beside her, sighing contentedly, and Kate smiles, entranced, as tears slip down her cheeks.

* * *

Their daughter is so much like Castle.

She has sparkling eyes, is never quiet for long, and is her father's little shadow.

The girl isn't afraid of anything, and is seemingly unfazed by the fact that her mother is in a hospital bed, barely able to move, and that nothing about this is normal.

She babbles nonsensically, clambering all over the bed as Castle attempts to convince her to sit still for more than a moment.

"Slow down, Katie," he admonishes, but the glow of pride in his gaze is unmistakable as he watches his daughter.

"Katie?" She wonders.

Katie is her name. It's her childhood and her parents and now her daughter too, apparently. At least according to Castle.

"It's your father's fault, really," Castle says, regarding her with those little boy eyes, the ones she can never resist. He's not sure how she's going to react, evidently, but she doesn't even know what to say.

"She's so much like you, Kate. Your father called her Katie once, and the look on her face… It was like we'd finally gotten it right," he laughs, stroking a finger across their daughter's belly, causing her to erupt in giggles.

Kate turns to Eva, her arm resting weakly around her.

There's a mischievous twinkle in the girl's eyes that she knows all too well, a smile that melts her heart.

"You're wrong, Castle," she murmurs, her heart full. "She's just like you."

* * *

It all takes time.

Time and rehab and longer in a hospital than she ever imagined, and the agonisingly slow progress makes her frustrated, impatient.

She lacks the energy to hide her irritation, and still her husband is unfailingly joyous, never without a smile.

She could be in a terrible mood for the rest of her life and he'd just be happy that she's okay.

Somehow even that annoys her.

"Castle," she grits out, trying to get a hold of the emotions that are about to send her to frustrated tears. "Stop smiling."

His lips fall into a blank line, but his eyes are still bright.

"Why?"

She huffs out a sigh, can't find enough words to explain.

"It's too much. All of it."

She's unbelievably weak, only now learning to do things she used to do without thinking. She's missed a year of their lives, the first year of her daughter's life, and she's still stuck in a fucking hospital, unable to go home with them.

Nothing's how it was before and everything _hurts_.

"Kate."

He hugs her then, still so gentle with her, but she can't find it in herself for be annoyed at him when his embrace provides so much comfort.

"It's okay. Everything's okay."

Somehow when the words fall from his mouth, she believes them.

* * *

They all keep saying it's a miracle: her recovery, that she doesn't have any long term brain damage.

It's a miracle that Castle attributes to her character, her strength of will, but in reality, she's never felt weaker.

She just concentrates on the fact that she's going home.

Home, where her family is waiting, so pleased to see her.

They all visited – her father, Martha and Alexis, Lanie and the boys – but it's different, being home with them.

It's the closest thing to normal she's felt in months.

They chat quietly while Castle tends to Eva, demonstrating a routine that she doesn't know and isn't a part of. She swallows the feeling that they don't need her here, tries to banish it altogether. She knows it isn't true, that he's just trying to make things as easy as possible for her, but she can't help but wonder what their lives might look like if she hadn't ducked out to grab groceries that night. If she'd just stayed home, if she hadn't been at that intersection at that split second in time. If she'd never been gone at all.

* * *

She tries not to be bitter about it. Tries to focus on the miracle they've been handed; the fact that she's here to see her daughter grow up, even if she missed a year of her life.

But some days it consumes her, the frustration and anger that Eva is walking and talking and she didn't get to witness any of it for the first time.

"Momma," Eva whines, tired of sitting still so long, and Kate holds her closer, covers the girl's face with kisses before letting her crawl down off her lap.

She has Castle to thank for the fact that her daughter even knows who she is, but he refuses the gratitude, as if she could expect nothing less of him.

She remembers him, when the frustration threatens to overwhelm her. Her husband who never gave up hope, who never stopped bringing their daughter to visit, who went through hell and still puts up with her when she's angry instead of grateful.

Eva staggers over to the toys that litter the living room floor, perfectly content, and Kate leans back in her chair, attempts to focus on the present.

"Hey."

Castle comes up behind her, kisses her cheek.

"Dada," Eva exclaims, approaching him with a plastic truck in her outstretched hand.

"Thanks, baby," he grins, taking a seat on the floor in front of her chair, his shoulder brushing her leg.

Eva makes a whole production of it, bringing all of her toys to Castle so they can play together, and he responds perfectly, knowing exactly how to do this.

The last thing she remembers she had a one-month old daughter, and now she looks at Eva and still can't believe it's really her.

She's not familiar with it, with any of it, and the feeling of inadequacy that descends when she sees Castle with Eva is a fist around her heart.

Somehow she envies her husband for being such a natural parent, and that only compounds the guilt.

"I'm going to lie down."

"Kate?"

She waves off his concern, knows it won't stop him.

She's barely seated on the edge of their bed when he comes after her.

"Kate."

"I'm not good at this," she grits out, ashamed of the confession.

"Yes you are."

He's affronted by the mere suggestion, so ready to disagree, and she leans back on the mattress, so tired.

"You're amazing at this."

He wants to push the point, needs to, but she can't hear it.

"Castle-"

"Eva loves you. She loves you so much."

"She doesn't know me," she disagrees. "I don't know her."

She regrets the words instantly, because his whole face drops. She knows he did the best he could, that he did more than she could ever ask of him, but it doesn't change the fact that she's only now getting to know her daughter.

"I'm sorry."

She's sorry for everything, now.

Sorry for not being there. For not being a good enough mother, not being a good enough wife. For not being grateful enough for this miracle. For being so weak.

"Don't be sorry," he implores, crawling up onto the bed beside her. He lies on his side, his gaze so tender, and she turns away.

Sometimes it's too much, the way he looks at her. As if she's capable of anything.

"Hey," he strokes a finger down her cheek, draws her back to him. "You have nothing to be sorry for. This is a lot to get used to. It will all just take some time."

She breathes deeply, giving him a small nod. She wonders what she ever did to deserve this man.

"I hate that I missed it. All those milestones."

"There will be more milestones. So many more. And you'll see every one."

She pulls him close for a kiss, hopes that it displays the gratitude that she can't put into words.

"She-"

"She won't remember it, Kate," he cuts her off, reading her mind.

"I will."

Tears spring to her eyes and she presses the heels of her hands to them, willing the tears to recede.

"Kate," he begs.

He hates seeing her like this, she knows. But she can't help it, the regret too much to take.

He has every moment documented. She's seen every milestone in videos and photos, but it's not the same.

He gets up slowly, walking out into the living room and returning with Eva, lifting her onto the bed.

"New memories, Kate. That's what we've got. That's what we should be thankful for."

She can't disagree, not when Eva crawls over to her, demanding to be held.

"Baby," she gets out, breathless as she sits up slowly, letting Eva settle in her lap. "Oh, I love you."

The ferocity of it still takes her by surprise. The way her heart bursts with just one glance at the girl.

Eva exhales softly, burrowing closer, her hand fisted in her mother's shirt as her eyelids droop.

"Almost nap time," he murmurs, watching as Eva begins to drift off.

"Rick."

He looks up from Eva, smiling warmly.

"I love you."

It's the one thing that hasn't changed, that never will.

His lips meet hers in a gentle kiss, his palm at her cheek.

"I love you, too."

* * *

"I think we went overboard, Castle."

He falters, smiles at the sound of the teasing lilt to her voice and glances towards his wife, confirms that she's really here.

It's been a year since she opened her eyes and came back to them, and it still feels too good to be true.

"Castle?"

"Hm?" He refocuses, and Kate joins him beside the admittedly massive pile of presents that their daughter has yet to unwrap.

"I think we got a bit carried away with the presents," she repeats, dusting a kiss to his cheek.

"I don't think so," he shakes his head, leans into her. "She only turns two once."

He allows a faint memory of last year, of the three of them celebrating Eva's birthday in that small room, before he turns his attention to the present, where his wife is smiling beside him, her head on his shoulder.

"Incoming," Alexis calls, as Eva bounds down the stairs all too quickly, tugging Alexis's hand and chanting about presents, completely unstoppable.

But Kate slows her with a single look, situates the girl between the two of them, even as she bounces up and down.

"Look, Momma," she implores, tugging at the floral dress Alexis dressed her in.

"Beautiful, Katie," she grins, kissing Eva's nose and making her giggle, delighted to be the centre of her mother's attention. It distracts her from the presents, long enough for Alexis, Jim and Martha to get settled in the living room, and then it's utter chaos, Kate laughing loudly as Eva demolishes the wrapping paper, squealing over the abundance of gifts.

She's a whirlwind, their daughter, increasingly stubborn and fiery with each passing day, terrifyingly fearless.

He takes Kate's hand, squeezes it softly.

He's never been more grateful that she'll be there to share it with him.

* * *

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